Stuff

Stuff that never changes: snow this morning . . . news this morning of another lawsuit against the Byway

Stuff that's heart-warming: Kansas won the Final Four and the National Championship. I'm happy about that because my friend Mow (mom to Webster who's Kea's sister) is a Jayhawk, and I know she's happy.

I'm also happy because that means Gonzaga was one of the top teams in the nation. Gonzaga lost to Davidson by a couple of points, and Davidson lost to Kansas in a 2-point squeaker. We all maintain that had Gonzaga drawn a different bracket, the Bulldogs could have gone much further in the Dance.

My 3-year-old grand-niece caught her first fish in Wyoming, a 22-inch Rainbow.

Stuff that's encouraging: The snow berm acting as a barrier between our driveway and the flower bed north of the driveway has melted, leaving a path of grass to the flower bed. I may go rake some dead leaves from the bed today.

My purple hyacinths are up and proud, a whole row of them. Can't enjoy them quite like I did last year because of the mounds of soft snow surrounding their bed, but they're there, and that is what counts. Maybe they'll hang around a while so we can enjoy them later.

One of my marigolds, planted from seed I collected last fall, has bloomed. Almost all my potted plants spent their first night in the greenhouse. Bill set up the propane heater in there, and everyone seemed pretty chipper this morning so this year's garden has officially started.

They say we're supposed to see the 60-degree temps by the day after tomorrow. I'll hold 'em to that, and will minute-by-minute try to think positive thoughts through the rest of today and tomorrow. That should be fairly easy.

The brand inspector is coming this morning to verify that I do, indeed, own my horses. And, from this day forth, I'll have proof from the Idaho State Brand Inspection that I own my horses. I need that and coggins test results when my horses cross the border into Washington either this weekend or the first of May.

As I look forward to Lefty and Lily going to school, I've been getting them going-away presents: Lily, a new black halter, and Lefty, a bright new blue blanket. He has a bright new blue sleezy to go with the blanket so he ought to be a hit among the high-class nags in Spokane.

Tomorrow I'll be visiting some students in Trout Creek, Montana, talking about all things funny. That should be fun.

I'll be seeing one of my nieces and her boys today. They're the ones from daffodil and tulip country who probably think they've walked right into the pages of George Orwell's novel 1984 with their "Spring Break" visit to Sandpoint.

That fictional atmosphere so skillfully painted by Orwell reminds me precisely of what these past few weeks have felt like. No color, the constancy of depressing sameness, days spent slogging on, knowing we've been unduly sentenced to more of the same---not knowing why.

Fortunately, I'm hopeful we can close that book soon and start talking nice about this country, maybe even calling it God's Country again instead of Purgatory.

Thoughtful, inspiring stuff: My friend sent me the foreward last night called "The Daffodil Principle." It talks about the grand and glorious field of daffodils, planted by a woman, one bulb at a time, beginning back in 1958.

We, here in perennially-fickle North Idaho, have often been called resilient---even through all our complaining. We tough it out, living each day one day at a time, looking for the little things to brighten our days and moving forward the best we possibly can in spite of the many lemons we're dealt.

This foreward from my friend reflects that resilience very eloquently, so I'll end with a segment of its message:

That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time--often just one baby-step at time--and learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time. When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world .

'It makes me sad in a way,' I admitted to Carolyn. 'What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it 'one bulb at a time' through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!'

My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. 'Start tomorrow,' she said.

She was right. It's so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, 'How can I put this to use today?'

Use the Daffodil Principle. Stop waiting.....

Until your car or home is paid off

Until you get a new car or home

Until your kids leave the house

Until you go back to school

Until you finish school

Until you clean the house

Until you organize the garage

Until you clean off your desk

Until you lose 10 lbs.

Until you gain 10 lbs.

Until you get married

Until you get a divorce

Until you have kids

Until the kids go to school

Until you retire

Until summer

Until spring

Until winter

Until fall

Until you die...

There is no better time than right now to be happy.
Happiness is a journey, not a destination.
So work like you don't need money.
Love like you've never been hurt, and,

Dance like no one's watching.

Wishing you a beautiful, daffodil day!

Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.